An Equation for Inexact Exchange
by Auto Pilote
Summary: Ed muses about his feelings as he adjusts to his new life without alchemy, and tries to solve the odd equation that is love. (May take a few chapters to get to the sexy stuff. Inprogress, so for now it's Edward x Winry, maybe even a little OT3 with Al. Possibly Pinako if all goes badly.)


**Heeeeeeeeeeeeeellllooo again. Sorry about this one, it's really just a bunch of scraps of other fics I've started and then stitched together badly and painted over. Might not hold together in a storm. So it goes without saying (but I'm saying it anyway) that I didn't put too much effort into this one and in the future you may find I've used some of these paragraphs/sentences twice. Also, I'm not sure where this is going, in the unlikely event that I finish it, so beware if this becomes more OT3 than OTP because there's always the off chance that I might include Alphonse, inside the offchance that I actually finish this. All very unlikely so never mind and go get the popcorn. **

…**.Shh, it's starting.**

**Who's still talking? Shut up!**

**Oh right it's me. Sorry. **

AND NOW FOR OUR FEATURE PRESENTATION (for you kids who aren't old enough to remember that):

**Chapter 1 wasn't titled.**

He heaved the heavy piece of wood from over his shoulder, and slid it into place in the side of the roof. Ed took some of the nails out of his pocket, tapping them into the wood with a hammer, careful not to hit his hand. Sure enough, it happened despite any pre-emptive measures he took. Swearing under his breath as he rubbed the injured hand, he half-wished he still had his automail arm for occasions such as this. It turned out that without his alchemy, he was rather clumsy with his hands. At least with automail he wouldn't have to deal with the annoying pains of broken bones and blood blisters that tools brought with them.

Then again, he mused, he wouldn't even be here if it weren't for his leg. Now that he was no longer a State Alchemist, paying for automail tune-ups proved harder than he thought. It wasn't broken nearly as often as it used to, but it still found ways to fail on him, keeping him at the automail shop.

He ran a hand through his hair, damp with sweat under the hot summer sun. He was home for the summer, but that didn't mean he could relax and unwind. Instead of paying the traditional way, Winry had given him a **buttload** of chores, -fixing the roof, for one. He probably wouldn't have minded so much if Al was there to keep him company. He laid down the hammer and nail, stretching out on the roof, the heated tiles scorching his bare skin. He kept tapping his metal foot on the roof, to keep the allusion that he was still working. He had no deep hatred of working, but he needed a moment to settle his thoughts, which turned upon him without the puzzles alchemy promised, often in ways that he found unsettling. Besides, if Winry found him slacking off, there would be hell to pay.

Of course, the weather here was nothing short of hell. It was hot and humid, and his body was practically drenched in sweat. He had taken his shirt off a while ago, to make the circumstances a little better, but the gawking, staring and blushing from the female (and some of the male) townsfolk that took that roads by the house was bordering unbearable.

He could feel their eyes, her gaping stare over his body, over his abs, chest, back and the rest of his exposed muscles. Their young and peeping eyes made him feel a bit uncomfortable, because he knew that once his shirt was off, he only had his pants and his briefs before he was stuck in his birthday suit. But their watch was so prickly on him, that he couldn't help but wish for some other pair of eyes that wouldn't leer at him so painfully. He wished rather that the wide, doe-eyes of Winry, would watch him with the same adoration one of the passing-by girls gazed at him with, that she would reserve that look of affection just for him.

She was just as stubborn as he was, and he knew that if neither of them changed or gave in, they would continue to fight and nag each other. It was because it was so much easier to yell at and throw hurtful words at the people he cared about than to admit he cared.

Caring was something he didn't just let himself do. He had Alphonse, and that was it. That was the reason he burned down the house so many years ago, so there would be no feelings to tie him down and hurt him. Up till a few months ago, he hadn't known this was a part of the reason, until his father finally died. Some nights he woke to find himself screaming like a child after a nightmare for his dad. It was an old sort of emptiness, a sadness that he finally knew Hohenhiem was never coming back. He had told himself over and over that he hated that rotten bastard, if only to keep himself from feeling betrayed instead. Shaking his head, he realized he was no better than how Envy acted, hurting people when he only wanted to be like them. He sighed.

The afternoon sun beat down on him, and he curled up in the shade of a lone cloud, yawning. He covered his eyes from the warm sun, forgetting to keep tapping his foot. Sleepily, he decided it was time to quit being so stubborn. He half wished he had Al there to ask for advice, but the topic was something he was just a little uncomfortable with talking to his brother about. Nevertheless, he had made up his mind.

This was going to hurt.

…**Ooooooooh suspense it killing me what should I write next X3**


End file.
